


Ashes To Ashes

by The_Sad_Hatter



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, But he's good to the reader, But they're dumbasses, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Twisted Fairy Tale, F/M, Loki isn't the good guy, Past Child Abuse, Protective Loki, Reader is soft but fierce, Sam Wilson is the best bro, The Avengers mean well, This story had some pretty dark story lines, Tony's on his usual adoptive streak, heavy trigger warnings, pain and suffering, please read the tags!, reference to mental health issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20228026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sad_Hatter/pseuds/The_Sad_Hatter
Summary: Eons ago, before the birth of Thor, before the war with the Frost giants; Asgard fought another threat. The Phoenix Fire. Born of flame and tragedy, Phoenix’s were deemed too dangerous and too powerful. Some even said that it was Phoenix Fire that lit the flames of Hel. And so, all the sorcerers of Asgard came together to rid the universe of the chaotic threat. There had never been another Phoenix since.Until now…All your life there had been one constant. Pain. Until him, until Loki. When Loki finds you, you’re caged and chained, your spirit broken. The God of Mischief sets you free and encourages you to spread your wings. As he reminds you, he is also the God of Chaos and when a creature of fire and legend collides with a Prince of Magic and Frost; chaos is exactly what happens. But there’s more to the Legends than even Loki realises, and by the time he discovers the truth about Phoenix’s, it may be too late.





	1. Unchained

**Author's Note:**

> Before you begin, if you haven't read any of my stuff before then you should know that this story takes place after Thor: The Dark World. I don't write with Thanos or Ragnarok/Infinity War/Endgame. 
> 
> Also, here's the Spotify Playlist since I have noticed some people enjoy these :-) X  
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4r2g29YWYKiFBFpp15HKjc?si=1z1ke5M5QpO5JjOHyhJcdA

Jagged screams of frustration and sharp, piercing cries of rage were held prisoner by your cracked lips. Never let them see you bleed, never let them see your fear. Never, ever, let them know your weakness.

The cold metal bit into your skin, chaffing and burning at the tender flesh. Someone had put the heavy, power dampening cuffs on too tight, maybe by accident but more likely a petty show of power. You were defeated, a prisoner of Shield or the UN or whoever the hell was running the show these days.

Your cold gaze had slid over the tired agents, standing tall and proud as they watched you be led away. They could tell themselves they were good, but you saw the smugness in their eyes. They were proud of what they had done today. They had fought you, hit you, shot you, and not once had they asked who you were or why you were doing this. They didn’t need to ask anything, in their head you were already the villain and they didn’t want to think otherwise.

They had shoved you into an empty room and chained to the floor like a dog. They left you there for hours, trying to intimidate you. Wordlessly telling you how beaten you were, how insignificant you had become in your defeat. This was clearly part of their tactics to break you down and uncover your secrets, your allies, your plans. They would get nothing from you.

Even if they could believe your tragic tale, why would they ever show mercy to a creature like you?

~~~

Agent David Litt tucked the file he’d already memorized under his arm and swiped his card through the scanner before he lithely stepped into the cell. Well, truthfully, Agent David Litt was dead, had been for days. His corpse was deteriorating at the bottom of a lake in the Canadian mountains, but Loki was the only one who knew that. The last person he’d been impersonating had ceased to be of much use, so he had taken over another life, once with better access to interesting things like this.

You, the woman who the UN Agents had captured was in a sorry state and he actually felt a measure of sympathy for you. It was why he, as Agent Litt, had insisted on being the first one to talk to you. You flinched when he entered the room but didn’t look up at him. You may act meek but he could see through it. You were lost, utterly broken and probably believed that you had been tamed, but he knew better. He could virtually see the fire and hatred rippling beneath your skin. All you needed was a little push in the right direction. Someone to push you off the edge so you could unfurl your wings and fly.

“You can hide it from me all you like, I see the rage in you. So much ire, so much wild, untamed power.” He mused aloud, eyes roaming over you with unrestrained want.

You didn’t flinch.

“You think if you say nothing then I won’t find out the truth?” He chuckled.

You kept your eyes empty and your expression blank.

“But what if I already know? What if I have already uncovered all of your carefully kept secrets?” He whispered, flicking through the papers in the file.

“You think I’m lying to you? That I don’t know all about the manor house in the hills, the rosebushes lining the land, the enigmas hidden behind the dark stone walls?” He asked.

He saw the tendrils of fear wrapped themselves around your heart and squeeze, crushing you from within. Months he had been here, hiding his true face, infiltrating this realm and whispering in the ears of those with power. It had led him to this, to this little goddess. Broken as you were, your beauty could not be tempered. You were gaunt, your skin sallow, your eyes bloodshot, your hair tangled and mussed but despite it all, you were utterly breathtaking.

So much raw power ran through your mortal veins, so much potential, and yet it had been wasted, abused even. Worse still, these people knew it. They _knew_ you hadn’t attacked of your own volition and rather than offer justice; they were going to use it against you in an attempt to control you, to be your new captors. The very notion of it made him tremble with rage, stirred an unfamiliar instinct in him to protect you. 

“Look at me, darling.” He purred softly.

You didn’t and surprisingly, for once it didn’t infuriate him to be disobeyed. He stalked across the small room to stand over you and banished his disguise as he moved.

The second he did, the alarms blared. He threw away all those months of hard work without care and gave away his hard earned advantage over this world, for the chance to uncage the darling little monster at his feet. Your gaze flickered over his form, recognition sparking in your eyes.

“You know who I am.” He stated.

“Loki, God of Mischief and Lies.” You whispered.

Your voice may have been hoarse, but it was melodic still.

“Not just Mischief and Lies, I’m also the God of Chaos. And you my darling, are nothing if not chaos personified.” He announced, fingers closing around the chains that held you down.

With magic and brute strength combined, he obliterated your bindings.

“Spread your wings and soar, little phoenix.” He commanded as you pulled yourself to your feet, your whole body trembling.

He could hear the agents boots stamping against the floor as they lined up in the corridor outside your cell but they couldn’t harm him, and he would never let them harm you. He would keep them occupied while you made your escape, they would be too busy dying to stop you from gaining your freedom. But he had made an error in judgement when he expected you to jump at a chance to be free. In a most ironic twist of fate, he, Loki, had shown you more kindness than you had ever been shown before and rather than run, you latched onto your saviour. Your arms circled his neck, and you buried your face in his chest, holding onto him like he was your anchor in the storm. He instinctively took you into his arms, holding your tremoring body against his and soothing you like he had done it a thousand times before.

He could feel the searing heat radiating from you, hot enough to sear flesh from bone, but he remained miraculously unscathed. The air around you crackled as red flames burst into existence and he felt your tears soak through his shirt as he held onto you in the eye of the storm, comforted you in the centre of the fiery vortex.

“Kill them all then, my darling. Kill them all and know that never again will they cage you.” He whispered into your hair.

As the pressure inside the room built and the flames rose the deep reds and oranges of your fire gave way to a peculiarly familiar shade of green before the wall of emerald fire exploded outwards. He had set out to free you, not keep you, he hadn’t meant to claim your power for himself, but it would appear that was how the fates had decided this was going to play out.

Chaos reigned, fire burned, people died screaming and through it all he remained unscathed as he held you close and smiled.


	2. The Church Of Loki

There were few things in life you were certain of, and not many guiding lights to teach you more. There was one thing that you knew to be true, one thing above all others. One phrase, one sentence overheard on a rainy afternoon; crouched on the dusty floor and peering through a crack in a doorway to the small flickering television in the room that was off-limits to you.

_‘Life is pain’ _

It was true. Life had held nothing but pain, and pain came in many forms. Pain came out of amber glass vials and smoking beakers of poison. Pain was at the fine point of a needle, or the sharp edge of a scalpel. It was in a raised fist and the rough leather of a belt. Pain dwelt behind stone walls and hid behind rose bushes, and pain lived inside you. Ass far back as you could remember, there had been pain.

_Until now_.

It had been a long time since you felt the cold but the hand that was holding yours was like ice, a soothing chill that sent tingles up your arm. You looked down at your entwined fingers, your lips curling in the closest approximation of a smile you had attempted in so long. It was his hands that had broken your chains and set you free. You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. All your life you had been praying to the wrong god, but Loki had come for you anyway.

“Fret not my darling, you are safe now ad we are almost home.” He whispered softly, his thumb brushing softly against your wrist.

He had taken you far from the remnants of your chaos, whisking you away from the destruction and lingering flames that had exploded from you. How he had taken you away, you weren’t quite sure, and you didn’t quite care. He had taken your hand in his and promised to keep you safe, that was all that mattered to you. Nobody had ever promised to keep you safe before, and you wouldn’t have believed them if they had. You believed in him though. You knew who he was and what he had done, his list of supposed crimes. None of that mattered. You had your own sins, you couldn’t judge anyone else for theirs. And why would you want to?

You didn’t realise your eyes were closed, letting the god at your side choose your path and keep you on it. It was only when he pulled his hand from yours and cupped your cheek tenderly that you opened your eyes.

“Welcome home.” He told you.

You looked past him, tilting your head curiously at the dark building behind him with it’s shimmering glass windows and tall spires. It was a far cry from where you had come from, it was shining an beautiful. You glanced back at him, unsure. He seemed to sense your unease and gave you an encouraging smile, gently pushing you towards the large oak doors. With one final look back at him, you pushed them open and stepped inside.

_Home, you were home. _

~~~

There was a burst of bittersweet fondness in his chest as he watched you step inside the abandoned cathedral he had decided to claim. It had amused him to choose a place where mortals once worshipped another god as his (temporary) home, but your wide eyed wonder as you spun across the marble floors in circles made him pleased with his choice.

In his long life he had been many things, a protector was not one of them. He would be lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that was curious about your power, that he wasn’t already scheming and planning how your formidable abilities could help him achieve his goals. But all that could wait, it could wait until you were ready. He knew exactly how it felt to be chained up by those who would hail themselves as heroes, to be deemed a monster and to be proclaimed guilty without trial. As soon as he laid eyes on you he could see your fear, your anger and your pain and he remembered how it felt. Freeing you had been a selfless act, and despite what people would say it was not the first time he had done something selfless. It had been something the old him would have done, the him before the fall.

When your fire had blazed through everything it touched but left him unscathed, he realised that his attempt at a good deed would have pleasant repercussions for him. How you came to exist and how he had been lucky enough to find you, he didn’t know. What he did know was that you weren’t supposed to exist at all. Having witnessed your flames, there was no doubt in his mind that you were a Phoenix, a true Phoenix. Only Phoenix Fire could burn so fiercely through anything it chose, and only a Phoenix could burn so brightly. But according to legends written long before he was born, The Phoenix’s had been eradicated from the universe, never to rise again. All the sorcerers of Asgard had set aside their qualms and differences to come together and they had wove a powerful and unbreakable enchantment; yet here you were.

He followed close behind you as you explored, reassuring you every time you glanced back at him skittishly. He would unravel your mystery in time, he would find out where you came from and how you came to be. As you flitted from window to window and excitedly cooing at all the sights, he had to hide his smirk as remembered another part of the legend. His very favourite part of the myth, the part that had his heart beating with excitement now.

There were some who said that it was Phoenix Fire that had lit the fires of Hel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small chapter to get into the swing of things, since it has been six months since I wrote the one-shot/first chapter. 
> 
> Plus, it is a very different vibe from what I usually write. So, with that in mind, do you like this style and story premise?


	3. Stained

“The fires are still burning, nothing we do is dousing them.” Fury informed the three men watching the screen.

Stark sat up straighter, the cogs of his mind almost visibly turning as he was presented with a new scientific puzzle. Steve remained standing and almost imperceptibly turned his head towards the Man of Iron, trusting him to work it out. Thor just continued to watch the screen quietly, sombre eyes taking in the crackling flames that danced across the remains of the shield facility. The images of destruction ignited a nauseating sense of dread in him.

“You said Loki did this?” Steve asked Fury and Maria Hill solemnly.

“Yes, and no.” Fury told them cryptically.

“This is not Loki’s work.” Thor said heavily.

“Lets see, death? Check. Destruction? Check. Chaos? Check. Magical green fire? Check. Not to mention, he was seen at the scene of the crime and nobody can find the Agent he was impersonating. All signs point toward Reindeer Games going on another rampage.” Tony scoffed.

“Sorry Stark, but Thor’s right. Loki didn’t do this, but he is responsible. What we’re about to show you is highly classified.” Maria Hill interjected, swiping at the holographic controls in the centre of the table and flinging an image at the screen.

The screen showed them a pristine white cell, cold, clinical and unblemished but for the woman chained in the centre of it.

“Who’s the girl?” Tony asked sharply.

Maria opened her mouth to answer, but Fury quickly cut across her.

“We haven’t identified her yet.” He told them.

They watched as a man entered the cell, and as that man revealed himself to be Loki before he broke the chains holding her down. And then to everyone’s surprise, none so more than Thor, she wrapped her arms around his brother like he was her lifeline; clinging to him like he was her anchor in a storm. The surprises were just beginning though, and when cascades of flame erupted from her, Thor physically jolted in shock.

“Loki broke out one of your prisoners? And why is she not in UN custody?” Stark asked.

“Because two days ago she almost levelled an entire town with that fire of hers, and when we tried to stop her she killed a lot of good agents.” Fury responded crisply.

He drowned out the sounds of their chattering and moved towards the screen, hoping that the closer he got the more sense it would make.

“Play it again.” He demanded as soon as the flames burned out the camera and the footage ended.

It started again from the beginning and he narrowed his eyes, sure he had seen..

“Stop!” He roared, heart thundering in his chest at the sight on the frozen screen.

“Are those… wings?” Steve asked.

The way the flames had unfurled around her had formed the distinctive shape.

“Impossible.” He gasped, unable to deny it any longer.

“What’s impossible?” Share with the class buddy.” Stark prodded.

“Where did you find her? WHERE?” Thor roared, rounding on Fury with an angry demeanour that hid the fear in his chest.

“I’ve already told you everything we know about her. How about you back the hell up and tell me what you know about her.” Fury ‘suggested’.

Thor took a step back, wiping his hand across his face and rubbing his jaw as the startling information whirled around his mind.

“I do not know how, but the girl is a Phoenix.” He admitted wearily.

There was a beat of silence that was quickly broken by Stark.

“Someone call Barton and Wilson, there’s a new bird in the nest.”

~~~

You watched the water swirl around the drain, what was once clear now a murky brown from the blood and ash you had scrubbed from your skin. No matter how hard you scrubbed your skin, it was still marred with the stains of your sins. With a hint of sadness you turned the dial up, warming the water cascading down on you. You had been enjoying the cool water on your skin but though it had been soothing your soul, it was not washing the dirt from your skin. You scrubbed it all away, feeling satisfied as it washed down the drain. Only when every outer inch of you was stripped of the stain of your ordeal did you turn the water off, wishing there was a way you could scrub your soul as well.

You picked up the towel Loki had handed you before sending you in here and wrapped it around yourself, relishing in the fluffiness of it. Padding out of the bathroom, your eyes immediately started searching the room beyond for Loki. He wasn’t there, but his essence was. You could see it in the emerald silk sheets of the four poster bed with its dozens of golden pillows, in the dark forest green drapes pinned over the stained glass windows. He might not physically be in the room but he wasn’t far away, you knew because you still felt safe.

Your stained and tattered clothing wasn’t where you’d discarded it anymore, but in it’s place piles of new garments had been left. You ran your fingers through the materials, the silks and satins of all the clothes laid out for you. You had never felt cloth so soft, let alone worn it. There were clothes in every shade of green there was, but there were also shades of gold, purple and blue, and black. No reds though.

You knew it wasn’t a test; he wouldn’t do that, not your saviour and protector. He was too kind for such things. Still, you didn’t know what to choose, you didn’t know how to make the choice. Clutching the soft towel tighter to your body, you hurried from the bedroom, seeking out your god. You found him in the chapel, sprawled regally across a chair and staring into space. He looked up as soon as he heard you come in, his eyes widening slightly at your choice of attire.

“I didn’t know what you wanted me to wear.” You whispered to him, your voice echoing off of the stone walls anyway.

He frowned at you, his forehead creasing slightly before he seemed to realise something that made him look sad. He pushed himself to his feet and crossed the space between you in a few short strides.

“Whatever you want to wear, the clothes are yours. If you don’t like them then I can summon more.” He promised, his hands brushing your shoulders as he turned you back towards the bedroom and gently shepherded you through the door.

“I do like them. I do.” You assured quickly.

“Then wear whichever ones _you_ want to wear.” He suggested, fingers brushing against your skin and leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

Whatever you wanted. Such a foreign concept. You’d chosen your own clothes before, but picking between three plain shirts wasn’t the same as this. You tentatively reached for one of the shirts before you put it down again.

Whatever you wanted… You clutched a fistful of soft green silk and pulled it from the pile, the material spilling between your fingers like water. You didn’t realise until that moment that it was a dress, you only knew it was very soft and you liked the colour. You held it out to him for approval, defiantly ignoring the tremor in your arms as you did so.

“A fine choice.” He decreed, gently pushing it back towards you and reached out to cup your face in his hand, his cool palm a stark contrast to your warm skin. “You can wear what you want, you can do what you want. You can stay here with me, or leave. You can burn anyone who has ever wronged you, or set fire to the world. You are free, little Phoenix.” 

“Why?”

You didn’t mean to ask, didn’t mean to question him. You didn’t doubt his sincerity, but you also didn’t understand it and the word fell from your lips before you had the chance to really think about it. There was a flicker or darkness in his eyes, a silent show of pain.

“I too have been caged and chained, there are still those who would see me that way again.” He told you.

“No!” You hissed, your shoulders tensing up.

Loki chained? Absolutely not. You wouldn’t,_ couldn’t_ allow it. He had saved you, he had broken your chains and set you free. If anyone dared try and take him away, you would scorch them where they stood. You had waited your whole life for someone like him, someone kind and gentle, and you would see the world burn before you saw him come to any harm.

“So fiercely protective of me, already?” He teased, without malice.

In fact, his eyes were soft as he looked at you, and his smile genuine.

“You saved me. Nobody ever even _tried_ before you. This is the first day of my life that I have been free and it’s because of you. All I have ever known is cruelty and evil, even from those who call themselves heroes, who call themselves a shield. The world is harsh, and you are the only thing that isn’t. You are the first good thing I have ever found, don’t you see I have to protect you? I have to.” You told him emphatically, and by the time you had finished speaking you had crushed yourself against his chest, holding onto him like you could keep him safe if you just held on tightly enough.

“Yes, little Phoenix, I understand perfectly. The world is indeed harsh to us, but we have found each other now.” He soothed, his arms circling you and wrapping around you securely.

“Why do you call me that? Phoenix.” You murmured, into his shoulder curiously.

“You don’t know?” He asked.

You could recall some fuzzy memories of pictures of red birds with long tail feathers, a cartoon or drawing. Fire birds, fairy tale creatures.

“Oh, like the stories? Because of my fire?”

He pulled back enough to look at you, his head tilted as he regarded you with a touch of disbelief and a hint of sadness.

“I suspect that whatever stories you know are wrong. Do you want to know your history?” He offered.

Did you?

“I… Tell me. Please.”

~~~

“So, Phoenix’s are real? _He asked the god of thunder_.” Stark scoffed, shaking his head slightly.

“They are. They were.” Thor nodded.

“How do we know she’s not just a fire-powered mutant?” Steve questioned.

“Or an experiment, a Hydra invention.” Tony added.

“Because Phoenix Fire could burn through anything, and it would keep on burning. She has the flaming wings. Loki must know, it’s why he wanted to release her.” Thor sighed.

The thought of Loki with a Phoenix by his side was a terrifying one. He still believed his brother was not beyond redemption, that Loki could be saved. But this complicated matters greatly.

“Alright. So tell us about Phoenix’s.” Maria shrugged.

“I will tell you what I can, but you must understand that it is shrouded in mystery, like the past often is.” He warned. “Asgardians are often gifted with abilities, though not always. Those who are, become gods like myself. It had always been the way. Eons ago, long before I was born, before my father was King… There was an Asgardian who suffered a great tragedy. The tales all differ but they all agree that when he was young, he was betrayed and died in fire. He rose from the ashes.”

“So the Phoenix myths got some stuff right?” Fury asked. 

“Quite. But when he rose again he burned with a fiery vengeance. The fire inside him raged out of control, burning away any good inside him. He became a beast, consumed with thoughts of setting fire to the realms. He was not the first of his kind, but he was the last. It took many warriors to kill him, they had to carve his heart from his chest. It is the only way to kill a Phoenix and ensure they do not rise again. It is said that his heart was nothing more than a burning ember. When he was finally defeated the sorcerers of Asgard came together and cast a spell on all Asgardians that ensured no God would ever again become a Phoenix.”

“Are you telling us that Phoenix’s are Asgardians? They’re actual gods, all of them?” Steve asked tightly.

“A Phoenix was borne of fire and blood if they died before they could come into their destined godhood. Yes, they were gods. They were the gods of Fire and Vengeance.” He confirmed.

“How is that possible, if your wizards did their magic spell?” Tony pointed out.

“There are likely mortals with some Asgardian blood. Gods have been coming to Midgard for millennia, so it is possible there were those on this realm with diluted blood, blood that was untouched by the binding. It should not be possible for such weak blood to birth a goddess, but it is the only explanation.”

“So she’s a goddess?” Fury demanded sharply, waving towards the screen.

“No. She was meant to be a goddess, now she is only a monster.”

~~~

“I’m Asgardian?” You breathed out in shock.

You were born here, on earth, to human parents. It shouldn’t be possible, and yet…

_You whimpered quietly, your skin itching where the needle pierced your skin. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as your blood was pulled along the clear tube, dripping out of the other end. It splashed into the glass jar, mixing with the clear liquid, creating swirling patterns behind the glass. In a way, in a sick and twisted way, it was almost pretty. _

Loki’s fingers on your jaw pulled you back to the present as he gently tiled your head so you were looking at him.

“You are. I do not know how it is possible, but I know you are a goddess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even gonna pretend to be cool and aloof right now. Do you like this story? Please tell me 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
> 
> I worked really hard on the Phoenix mythology and tried to make it feel natural to the Marvelverse. I wanted it to feel like something that could pop up in a comic. 
> 
> And as for our reader, I'm drawing on a mixture of personal experience and psychology research to make her mannerisms and trauma realistic. It's difficult to balance a blossoming romance with such a naive character, but I'm trying. Her and Loki have a long way to go before they're in a romantic place, and she has a lot of personal growth to go through. 
> 
> But yeah, this is a very very different kind of character to what I usually write, and a different kind of story, so I'm feeling a little nervous and vulnerable about it.


	4. The First Burn is Always the Hottest

Your head felt like it was in a vice, tormented by a non-stop dull bruising pain that just wouldn’t leave you alone. The shafts of sunlight streaming through the grimy windows were not helping but you couldn’t move, you couldn’t bring yourself to shift along the dusty floor and out of the light. If you moved you felt like you would faint. Your head lolled forward, drooping as you squeezed your eyes closed, hoping to block out some of the bright light.

“It is time for your treatment.”

The despotic voice broke you out of your reverie, making you jolt in surprise and immediately wince at the fresh wave of weakness moving sent through you. You forced your self to look up, knowing better than to ignore him. He was stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed outside like he didn’t have a care in the world. The light highlighted the pristine white of his hair, making him shine like a beacon. When he didn’t hear you moving he turned his gaze onto you, his wrinkled brow furrowing even further.

“Sir, please, can we wait? Just one more day?” You whispered.

You were so tired and so sore that you chanced it, risking his wrath out of sheer desperation for a reprieve from the procedures.

“You want to wait? When we’re so close? Very well, if you’re feeling too weak...” He sighed wearily.

You could hear the dissatisfaction in his voice and your heart clenched. You didn’t want to let him down, didn’t want to disappoint him. Wiping away the sheen of sweat from your forehead with your sleeve, you forced yourself to stand up.

“No, I’m strong enough.” You declared with a shaky voice, swaying where you stood.

If you didn’t know better you’d say the smile he gave you was a kind one. You did know better but it still didn’t stop you feeling proud as you staggered after him. You had to lean against the splintered wooden bannister as he unlocked the iron door under the stairs, pulling the sweat soaked material of your shirt loose from your clammy skin while you waited. He pulled the creaky door open and stood back expectantly while you went ahead of him, carefully descending the spiral staircase into the bowels of the estate. The stone walls felt warm under your hand as you used them to keep your balance as you went down, which was strange as you knew from experience they were usually frozen. There was only one reason the walls down here would have any heat.

“Why is the incinerator on?” You gulped nervously.

He had only lit the roaring flames of the incinerator once before, as far as you knew. There had been someone else living here once; a boy a few years older than you. One day he had come down here with Sir and he hadn’t come back up again. That was the only day the incinerator had been switched on.

“To dispose of some medical waste.” He said blithely, unbothered by the fear in your voice.

You swallowed thickly as you reached the bottom of the stairs, the edges of your vision going black for a moment. You somehow made it across the room and to the gurney, weakly pulling yourself onto it. You let your eyes flutter closed as you lay back, listening to the clinking jars as Sir prepared everything he needed.

“Now, this should make you feel better come to think of it. You’re not giving blood today, you’re getting some back.” He announced, tugging your wrist away from you and inserting the needle with practiced ease.

You made a low noise of confusion in the back of your throat and turned your head to the side, studying the airtight jar of red viscous liquid next to you. He straightened the tubes and made sure there were no blockages in them between you and the jar before he twisted the stopper, allowing the blood to seep out of it and travel down the clear tubing towards your wrist. You blinked, trying to clear your vision so you could peer at the jar. With the light behind you and the blood darkening the inside, you could see your distorted reflection in it. Or, you hoped it was distorted. You were so gaunt the bones of your skull were prominent and your eyes had sunken in so much that you resembled to skull on Sirs desk more than you resembled yourself.

You looked across the lab to the desk, not for the first time wondering where the skull had come from and why he had it. Now you were also wondering if you would be keeping it company soon. Pins and needles tingled along your skin, running along your spine and across your shoulders. You weren’t sweating anymore, you weren’t in pain, you were numb, and for some reason that scared you. You whimpered quietly, blinking back tears as you tried in vain to lift your arm off the gurney. Sir bustled around you, ignoring your blatant distress.

You didn’t take his disinterest to heart. Yes he was cold, and he could be cruel, but his work was important and you were an important part of that, so if he was hard on you it was for good reason. It didn’t mean he didn’t care.

It **didn’t** mean he didn’t care about you.

The dozens of amber glass vials that lined the shelves started to merge together, your vision wavering intensely as your heart stuttered in your chest painfully, fluttering against your ribs like a caged bird trying to break free. Through the last vestiges of your hazy vision you saw his blue eyes peering down at you and you barely felt his fingers press against your throat.

“I don’t think you’re going to make it dear. What a shame.” He sighed, quite literally shrugging it off.

A tear ran down your face, blazing down a trail across your skin as you saw him crank the wheel on the incinerator, turning up the flames. You were important, you had to be, he had to care even if it was just a little bit. But as he opened the metal doors of the incinerator you felt your heart break as you finally admitted the truth to yourself. As you were pulled into the beckoning darkness, the last though in your mind was that all you were to him was ‘medical waste’.

~~~

It wasn’t that Loki was struggling with his newfound role as a protector, it was that he was struggling with how easy it came to him. No one would ever accuse him of being gallant, or even kind, but if they could see him now they would be surprised. He gazed into the fireplace, entranced by the flames as he thought about The Phoenix sleeping in his bed. With all you had been through it was unsurprising you had all but passed out halfway through the meal he’d gently coaxed you into eating. He’d watched you struggled to keep your eyes open as you chewed and as soon as he was satisfied you’d eaten enough he gently swept you into his arms and carried you to the bed. You’d fallen asleep in his arms without hesitation and when he deposited you safely under the blanket he couldn’t help but feel touched by how utterly comfortable you were in his presence. Which had led him down this path of thought. You were so compliant, you could easily become reliant on him, and all that power you possessed would be at his beck and call.

But that was what Shield had wanted from you, that had been their plan. His was, ironically, far less malicious. He wanted to do for you what nobody had ever done for him, what he’d had to fight for himself. He wanted to see you safe, free of manipulation and conspiring influences. He wanted to see you safe and strong, and free. In time, perhaps your power could be of use to him, he didn’t deny that he wanted that, but he wasn’t prepared to use malevolent means to achieve that goal.

Perhaps he wasn’t quite the monster people thought he was after all. He felt a warmth in his heart at the notion, before his heart clenched in his chest at the sound of a shrill and terrified scream emanating from the bedroom where he had left you. He didn’t hesitate to run towards the sound, bursting into the room with his dagger drawn. His eyes quickly zeroed in on the threat and his eyes widened at what he saw.

You were asleep, curled into the smallest ball you could be. The pillows around you were engulfed in red flames, rising in ferocity with every jagged scream that tore itself from your throat. He dropped his daggers and flew across the room, disregarding the danger as he grabbed your thrashing arms. He immediately let you, flinching away. Your skin was burning hot, too hot to touch. If he had been mortal your touch could have burnt him from the inside out. He scowled at the red skin of his palms and cursed under his breath. He tried calling out to you but you were drowning in the nightmare and his voice was not enough to pull you free. He tentatively reached for you again but to no avail, you were blazing with a searing heat that he just could not withstand.

There was only one thing he could do, loathe as he was to do it. He reached for you again and when his blue skin touched yours, frost rippled across your skin and melted away. His icy touch made you jerk in your sleep and you called out his name, the word falling from your lips like a desperate prayer.

_And then he wasn’t in the room anymore, he was trapped in fire. Metal walls surrounded him, flames licking across them. He could feel them on his skin, and Norns, it hurt. _

He forcibly pulled himself out of your nightmare with a gasp, more determined than ever to wake you up.

“Come back to me, little Phoenix. Come back to me.” He commanded, shaking you.

Your eyes flew open, your scream tapering off into a whimper as you realised he was there and threw yourself into his arms with a heart wrenching sob.

“It’s all right, you’re safe, you’re safe.” He soothed, holding you close.

The flamed still burned around you and you scarpered away from him, away from the fire.

“It’s fine. Just put them out.” He instructed calmly, following you across the smouldering sheets.

“I can’t!” You whimpered in a broken cry.

Your fear was still so palpable in the air, a thick and tangible fog that was choking you. He reached out and pulled you onto his lap, cradling you against his chest in a useless effort to shield you. What you feared lived inside your mind, and he couldn’t save you from that. All he could do was comfort you and offer his support while you saved yourself.

“Yes, you can. It is your fear that if fuelling them, so let go of your fear. You are safe little Phoenix and you need never be afraid again.” He whispered into your skin, his pressing against your temple softly.

He could feel your chest heaving where it was pressed against his and he waited patiently while your breath evened out, your control clawing its way back. Your fingers tangled in his shirt, trying to pull him closer as if your bodies weren’t already entangled.

“You can do it darling, the flames are yours and they will bend to your will.” He encouraged.

The flickering fire lost it’s hue, once again turning that shade of green he knew so well and he smiled at the unconscious symbolic gesture.

“I can do it.” You hissed under your breath, tensing up.

You raised your head, facing down the fire with an enchantingly determined expression.

“I am not afraid.” You declared, your voice unwavering and clear.

You were speaking the truth because the fire died as soon as you spoke, blown out by the strength in your voice. The muscles in your cheek twitched, an almost smile as you met his eyes.

“I am not afraid.” You repeated proudly.

“Nor should you be.” He chuckled, letting you see the pride in his eyes.

He wanted to ask about your nightmare, wanted to tell you he had inadvertently seen it. He had no desire to lie to you or to keep secrets but before he could admit what he had done you cocked your head and raised your hand to trace your fingers across his cheek.

“You’re blue.” You stated curiously.

He had almost forgotten that he was, more concerned with you. He let the icy cold blue skin of his Jotun form melt away, replaced with the pale skin he was more familiar with as he explained.

“I am a Frost Giant by birth, born of Jotunheim.” He brushed off, like it was of no consequence.

“I liked the blue.” You murmured, your fingertips still brushing against his skin.

You seemed to like the physical contact, skin on skin contact calmed you. You were so starved for affection and he had no qualms at all about offering sustenance. He waved his hand, sending away the scorched bed sheets and summoning unblemished ones as he settled back against the pillows, drawing you with him. Your eyes watched his hand with innocent curiosity, something close to happiness lighting up your gaze. He made a mental note of it, filing away the information on what made you happy. 

“You said Phoenix’s were born of fire and betrayal. I was dreaming about my death, and my ‘birth’.” You told him quietly, unprompted.

His brief flicker of joy that you felt safe enough with him to tell him the truth was doused out by rage as he remembered the fire closing in on you.

“Who betrayed you?” He asked heavily, afraid to upset you further but needing to know if they were still alive.

“Sir. He was… he raised me. He was some kind of Doctor, a rich man who took me in when I was a baby, when my parents died. I always helped him with his work because it was important, and he would do procedures on me. But I guess one day I stopped being useful so he disposed of me.” You whispered, your heartbreak written all over your face.

“You were a child, you weren’t supposed to be _useful_.” He snarled.

He could hear it in your words, in the pain in your voice. You blamed yourself for what happened. He knew you were thinking things could have been different if you had been stronger, if you had tried harder to impress the man who had hurt you, if you had just been better.

“He was a monster, and his sins are not to be laid at your feet, do you understand me?” He growled angrily, anger on your behalf – not aimed at you.

You nodded along, agreeing with him. He knew you didn’t mean it, didn’t believe it, you were just doing what you thought he wanted. He hated that you couldn’t see the truth but he understood it would take time and it would come from you and not him, so he took a deep breath and let it go. In time you would realise you had been wronged, and you were blameless. It would be a painful transition and you would have to mourn all you had lost, but you would emerge from the darkness. For now, you just needed to learn how to be free, to realise you were safe.

“What about my sins? You know I burned that whole town to the ground, right? I didn’t mean to do it but I did. And those people, Shield or whoever they were, they kept getting in the way. I was trying to stop it but they just kept distracting me and it got worse and I couldn’t fix it.”

“Darling, no. Shield evacuated the town.” He hissed through clenched teeth, aghast at your ‘confession’.

They hadn’t even told you the truth, that nobody had died. You had burnt the woods, destroyed building, people had been injured but nobody had died. Your head snapped up, your eyes widening as his words sunk in.

“Nobody died, and Shield found the lab in the remains of the manor, pieced together the truth. The only people you have ever killed are your captors, there is no innocent blood on your hands.” He assured you.

“Wha… But…”

“Shield saw your power and wanted to utilize it. That is what they do. They treated you like a monster so you would believe you were one, so they could set themselves up as your redemption and control you.”

You frowned sadly, your lip trembling at the new found knowledge but the he saw you visibly shake it off and raise your chin.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, because you saved me. Shield can’t have me, and Sir is gone so he can’t hurt me.” You decided.

“Gone?” He asked sharply.

“The fire, it was for him. I burned him right there in the basement where he burned me.” You said darkly, your eyes burning with morbid satisfaction.

He blinked slowly, dread creeping up his spine. Shield had excavated that basement, collected every shred of evidence from the remains of it. There had not been a body.

“So I’m safe, everyone’s safe from him. William Borreson can’t hurt anyone ever again.” You sighed happily, resting your head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you numbly, his mind spinning with the echo of your words.

_William Borreson_. He had never heard that name before but _something_ about it had a definitive edge of familiarity and gave him a sense of dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am persevering with this story because I am utterly in love with it 😭😭😭😭😭😭
> 
> I have never put as much thought or effort into anything like I have with this. 
> 
> And this version of Loki is by far my fave of all the ones I have written 💚💚💚


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